


Les Amis' Sing-Along Blog

by SuspenDisbelief



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Dr. Horrible AU, I Don't Even Know, Kink Meme, M/M, Pining Enjolras, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuspenDisbelief/pseuds/SuspenDisbelief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From "Wanderlusting":<br/>But I have to ask, you often mention ‘a certain someone’.<br/>‘And if a certain someone thinks that apathy is the natural human condition...’<br/>‘and if a certain someone can’t see the value of proportional representation...’<br/>Who are you always arguing against?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Amis' Sing-Along Blog

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt
> 
> "It's more inspired than a real AU I guess, because If you could avoid the ending... 
> 
> Anyway. So Enjolras (and the rest of les Amis) are a group of "villains" who actually just want to change the world. At the laundromat where Enjolras goes every week, there's this guy - cute but SUPER annoying (except, not really) who keeps rambling about all sort of things and Enjolras and him argue about everything, which of course means that Enjolras is secretly really in love with him, but he doesn't want to start a relationship with R without ruling the world first. (well, when I say 'rule' of course there would be fair elections, etc. Because Enjolras.)
> 
> R, obviously, thinks that Enjolras isn't interested with him that way at all. 
> 
> Then one day during one of their operations, R is almost killed but he is "saved" by um, the equivalent of Captain Hammer (I was thinking Montparnasse, maybe ?) and Montparnasse is super beautiful so they go on dates. 
> 
> Enjolras is jealous. (and he's not Billy, and he may be a tiny bit possessive, and that's how R finally learns that the guy he had a crush on since forever is part of a famous group of villains and there are adventures and kisses and maybe at the end they do rule the world ?)"

**VIDEO LOADING...**

**PLAY VIDEO**

[A young blonde man sits in front of a dark background, face slightly obscured by shadows. But not, like, a lot. A plain desk covered in papers is visible behind him.]

“Quick update: No word back from Anonymous as of yet. Those guys are, unsurprisingly, fairly difficult to reach. For any members that are watching this blog, please keep in mind that the Ami’s are a big fan of your work, and we would love an opportunity to collaborate in the future.”

“Moving on, I would like to take this opportunity to address some... critiques that have been e-mailed to our contact page on the site.”

“The first comes from user, dear lord... ‘Winning69’, who asks: _‘If you’re all about the greater good, why are you always,_ ’ and I quote, _‘fucking shit up? Weren’t you planning an arson or something?’’’_

“First of all, yes, we did successfully destroy the newly constructed, totally unnecessary, and paid for with taxpayer dollars city hall. It had jacuzzis for Christ’s sake! No one was in the building and the distraction served to allow us to retrieve documents that suggest that certain members of council have connections with organized crime groups from around the city... Unfortunately a member of our collective lost these in the fire, while being distracted by random passer-bys.”

[Offscreen: muffled cry of “I’m sorry, but she-”]

“Anyway, it’s not about ‘fucking shit up’, it’s about revealing corruption. The world is a mess and we just need to... create a system of government that’s responsible to needs and wants of the citizens that it is meant to protect.”

“Moving on! From user ‘GoatHammer_14’: ‘ _City Hall’s Press Secretary has labelled Les Ami’s as a terrorist organization. How do you respond to these claims?’_ ”

“Well, I would argue that the only people with cause to be terrified of us are those in power who do not deserve it and Press Secretary Montparnasse is a prime example of one of those people.”

[Behind camera: “And he’s a total douche.”]

“Thank you, Courf. And he’s a total douche.”

[Behind camera: “You should read this one next.” An arm enters the screen passing a sheet of paper to the speaker.]

“...”

“I don’t know if this one is really on point to the cause.”

[Behind camera: “What did you say about ‘public accountability’ when we added the e-mail account to the page?”]

“This is ridiculous. Fine. From ‘Wanderlusting’ _: ‘Dear Ami’s, I’ve been following you guys for awhile and I’m a big supporter of your cause!’_ Thank you, by the way _. ‘But I have to ask, you often mention ‘a certain someone’. ‘And if a certain someone thinks that apathy is the natural human condition...’ ‘and if a certain someone can’t see the value of proportional representation_...’ _. Who are you always arguing against?”_

“...”

**END OF VIDEO**

**PLAY AGAIN?**

“Cut the film, Courf!” Enjolras says coldly, pushing out of the chair and tossing the e-mail print-outs onto the desk behind him. He turns to level a glare at his friend, currently watching the playback with Marius, both giggling into their hands. “Thanks for the ambush by the way.”

“Sorry,” Marius says, attempting to regain some composure.

“I’m not.” Courfeyrac rewinds the footage and turns the screen so Enjolras can see, “This is great, I’m leaving this in. You look like someone stole you favourite toy! Speaking of, how is the mysterious R?” Enjolras can feel a blush creep up his neck as he turns around to shuffle with some _very important documents, okay,_ and he wills it to disappear, “Do we ever get to meet him?”

 “How would I know how he is?” Probably running out of clean clothes, Enjolras thinks. It is their laundry day, every Wednesday afternoon around three-ish. Not that Enjolras is memorizing a stranger’s schedule. That would be weird. It was his laundry day first. He just... Is possibly a little more strict about heading to the laundromat on time than he used to be. He turns back to his friend, pulling out his cellphone to check the time. 2:38. He sighs. Well usually he tries to be strict about it. Regardless he still has to get his laundry done before the meeting that night, ridiculous blue-eyed boys to argue with or not. “I actually have to head there now and I’ll let you know.” He says to shut up the protest he can see glinting in Courfeyrac’s eyes.

 “Can I come wi-“

  “No!”

 “Try not to be an asshole!” Marius contributes cheerfully, holding back Courfeyrac and waving, as Enjolras shakes his head and grabs his keys.  

* * *

           

 As he pushes his basket through the glass doors of the laundromat  Enjolras’ eyes, completely without his permission, seek out a mop of dark brown hair. Really soft looking dark brown hair that is currently attached to a figure crouched and stuffing damp clothes haphazardly into a dryer. There’s an impulse to call out a greeting like he would if he saw Ferre or Courf out running errands but, and Enjolras bristles at the warm familiarity he feels towards this relative stranger (“Grantaire, but since you’ve already seen my shorts you can call me R,” he had said with a wink), the dark-haired man is decidedly _not_ Ferre or Courf.

 Although, his traitorous brain thinks, the three would probably get on quite well despite, well, everything.

Enjolras is brisk as he begins to pull clothes from his basket, staunchly separating the lights and the darks, focusing on how he is just here to do his laundry and get out and not on how he didn’t properly pair all of his socks together in his hurry to leave the house. Fucking Courfeyrac and his... talking.

“You know, I was worried that you had gone and joined the ranks of the washing- machine-owning-bourgeoisie on me.” Grantaire’s voice sounds to his immediate right, the man shooting him a wide smile as Enjolras feels himself tense in surprise and turn towards the source. Grantaire looks... pleased. An uncommon expression on him to be sure. As though he had actually expected him to not show up. Which, no. This was his laundry day. The other man grips the edge of the machine beside Enjolras and hops up, swinging his legs and looking at the growing piles of laundry beside him with fond exasperation.

“Ah, no, a work... thing. It went long,” He tries to brush it off (He’s supposed to be known for his eloquence, right? Because sometimes...), but when he looks back up to Grantaire he is met with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, yes. Things. I hate those.”

“We’re working on a new social media campaign.”

“No way,” Grantaire rolls his eyes and his voice becomes harsh, “Don’t tell you’re one of those assholes you gets over- paid for tweeting all day.”

_Try not to be an asshole!_

 Enjolras grits his teeth, and thinks ‘so it begins’, but he will not start a fight today. He will not start a fight today.

However he can’t really help it if R does, can he? With his idiotic cynicism and his idiotic blue eyes.

“Social media is one of the greatest tools for wide-spread...marketing.” Enjolras spits out in _calm voice,_ through a clenched jaw, because he is _pleasant_ damnit! “It’s not perfect as far as equal-opportunity, but it’s pretty close. You don’t have to be part of the 1% anymore to have a laptop or a smartphone and wi-fi is widely available.”

“Okay, I’ll bite.” Grantaire’s eyes glint in _that way_ when he just knows he’s riling Enjolras up (barely took five minutes today), “What great, important tweets do you grace the world wide web with?”

Oh. And there it is. The great frustration. Because there’s always a point that they get to where Enjolras loses any leg he has to stand on. He can’t espouse the necessities of _social justice_ and _ethical government_ and the _people’s revolution_ if he’s just an intern at a downtown law firm. Well, he can (and has), but it doesn’t ever seem to be enough to do anything to address the sinking pit in his stomach when Grantaire, in the very heart of an argument, gets in his face and tells him with blazing eyes to put his money where his mouth is.

He made himself into a symbol, and now when he tries to be a person, he feels like a fraud.

And Graintaire is looking at him expectantly and he deflates under the man’s gaze.

“Advertising, you know, for the pro bono work the firm does.” He fibs easily enough but his tone sounds hollow, even to his own ears. He does this deception every day, but Grantaire has a habit of making his whitest lies feel black, and the other man doesn’t even know it. Or...

“Hey, are you alright?” A warm, calloused hand is grabbing his chin and tilting his head upwards to meet searching blue eyes. Grantaire’s face is close enough as he peers at him that the paint-flecked edges of his fringe are almost close enough to brush against Enjolras’ forehead and the blonde feels himself heating up in response and, fighting the strangest urges coiling in the pit of his stomach, pulls away from the grasp. He clenches his hands at his side and schools his expression into something he hopes looks neutral.

“Sorry, just tired.”

Grantaire frowns in response, but nods and lowers himself off the machine, angling himself well out of Enjolras’ reach. “I’m an ass.” Enjolras shakes his head, because no that’s backwards, he’s the one who’s a liar. But Grantaire laughs and runs a hand through his hair, “No, don’t worry about it. Umm,” He glances back at the dryer still spinning a dark blur of material around, “I don’t think those are done, but I’m cutting it pretty close to my shift as is.”

“Right,” Enjolras watches in silence as R practically flees from him and hunches over the machine, his shirt riding up the trail of his spine, and gathers the still damp clothes into a black garbage bag (he never seperates them, never uses fabric softener, and never folds them and Enjolras feels like he should be embarrassed that that’s something that he _knows_ ) “Hey,” he calls out, just as Grantaire reaches the door, not knowing exactly what his mouth is doing. Did he really think he had the time to ask the guy from the laundromat out for a coffee? Squeeze him in between morning surveillance, afternoon missions, and evening strategy meetings? But now the other man has paused and turns to stare at him from the doorway and he has to say something, “I’ll see you next week?”

The edge’s of Grantaire’s mouth creep upwards into a crooked smile, “See ya, Apollo.” And with a wink that leaves Enjolras burning, he’s gone.

 

 


End file.
